Until Lambs Become Lions
by Avia Tantella Scott
Summary: Caspian X learned of his father's murder and uncle's usurpation from his tutor, but there was one who saw it all unfold and was powerless to stop it. The story of the rise of Miraz, through the eyes of Caspian's mother. Expansion of "Cry" and "She Waits"
1. Prologue: Cry

Prologue: Cry

The sound of a shrill wail pierces the solemn silence and for one terrified moment she wonders if she has been discovered. She has been trying so very hard to keep such a sound suppressed, perhaps she has lost that battle as she has lost so much already. Maybe her façade has been broken, and she fears that the sound ripping itself from her throat has finally caused them all to see through to her very core. Surely the complete and total agony that cry contained are her own emotions, but it doesn't become a Queen to carry on in such a manner, even a Queen who has just experienced such a tremendous and earth-shattering loss as she has.

It is a fearful moment before she realizes that it was not herself, but the baby she clutches tightly in her arms, who gave forth the cry, and she is relieved that to all observers her composure still appears intact.

The little one, who had been sleeping peacefully before, is wailing now in earnest and she wishes that she could do the same. Watching the funeral rites being performed and attempting to appear composed is taking every ounce of strength she possesses. She has never been a strong woman and she worries that this unspeakable pain will kill her, too.

Part of her wishes that it would. Where once there were plans for parties and festivals celebrating each passing season, sweet dreams of a handsome and gray-haired King gazing lovingly upon a crowd of excited children all calling him "Grandpapa," and long nights wrapped in strong arms that made her stronger, now there is nothing. She cannot imagine that there will be tomorrow, let alone the summer that people say will come in a few weeks. With each moment feeling like a lifetime spent with the tip of a dagger digging into her heart, she cannot believe that she will have the strength to make it through another hour. She cannot even be sure that there will be another hour to live through. Surely the world cannot go on.

From somewhere comes the mournful sound of women singing. Her head is foggy and she cannot quite place the location of the singers, nor is her mind clear enough to attempt to understand the words of the ancient language of the dirge. Surely they are singing for someone else. Surely it is not her husband on that pyre. Surely there has been a mistake and it is only someone who looks uncannily like him. Her husband is young and strong and a brand new father. Such men are not taken from this world so suddenly and during a time of peace.

This is all wrong.

She wants to call upon the castle guards to investigate how such a grave error could have been made and to alert the family of the dead man. The entirety of the army should be turned out to find her missing husband so that all of this nonsense can be resolved and the deceased can be properly mourned by those who loved him. Surely she did not; it cannot be her love lying there because she cannot live if her heart is dead.

Seeing her pale face, a nursemaid reaches for the baby to relieve his mother of the added burden of his weight in her arms. She barely notices, only grips the child tighter and allows him to cry for the both of them. What a cruel injustice that simply because he is young and does not understand the terrible gravity of what is happening he is allowed to cry where she is not. She must remain composed; there are people watching and someone needs to be strong for them. A Queen is not allowed the luxury of despair, so she must put everything she has into showing that she feels no such emotion. Sadness, yes, that is only to be expected, but she cannot let them see how very badly she longs to run to that pyre and climb up to lay beside her husband and allow the flames to consume her body, too.

Without him, it is only a shell anyway.

There are men approaching the pyre with torches. The rites must have been finished, though she no longer remembers them occurring. Someone must stop the torch-bearers before they make a horrible mistake; the man on the pyre will wake up any moment now. He must. She needs him to, more than she has ever needed anything else in her short life. She cannot live her own life, let alone raise a child or attempt to be a Queen to his people, without his strong presence there to guide her, to encourage her…

To love her.

There has been an outpouring of grief and support from her people. Everyone is concerned and heartbroken for the pretty young Queen who only just recently miraculously survived the difficult birth of her first child. But it is not their support that she craves; it is not their pity that she needs. She cannot bear to look upon their faces, to see the tears in their eyes. Who are they to cry for him? Yes, Caspian IX was a good and honest and much-beloved King, but his people did not know him as his wife did. What right do they have to their tears while she must keep her eyes dry and her face carefully blank?

She should not think that way. She should be happy that her husband was loved enough to be mourned so earnestly by so many. She should take strength from them to provide the strength they take from her without knowing that she currently has none to give. Giving birth to their first – and now only, she thinks with some despair – child had nearly killed her, and now this terrible grief threatens to finish the job.

Perhaps that was the mistake. Perhaps she was supposed to have died, and now because she did not her husband has been taken from her. It is no secret that she has never been physically strong. She was always more prone to illness and contagion than any of her siblings and the pregnancy took a greater toll on her than other women. Her Caspian was a giant of a man, imposing when it was necessary but as tender with her as any woman could hope her lover to be, always with a quiet and self-assured personal strength that rivaled the power of his muscular body. He was indomitable on the tournament grounds or the battlefield. Men of such stature do not die easily.

And yet he had died.

That morning, the court had been assembled in the throne room. It was only her second day back at court; her recovery from the birth had taken longer than expected. Her husband had not come to her the night before, which saddened but did not surprise her. He had been more careful with her since the pregnancy; she had reasoned that he probably only wanted her to rest and save her strength for the long day to come.

Perhaps she should have been more concerned. Maybe he had been in agony at the very moment in which she closed her eyes to sleep. Perhaps if she had broken the laws of decorum and sent for him herself he might have been saved.

She must not think like that, for it will do no good and will only drive her mad. As if she is not headed in that direction already.

Try as she may to block it out, the vision of her brother-in-law Miraz flying into the great Hall with a look of complete shock and horror on his face plays continuously before her waking eyes like some sort of monstrous pantomime.

"The King is dead!" he had shouted. "I went to find him in his chambers and there he lay! The King is dead!"

She remembers no more after that, having collapsed in a senseless heap upon the cold and unforgiving stone floor. She still bears the dark bruise from where her head hit the ground; it is hidden by the black hood she wears. No one has been able to discern what had felled the great Caspian IX; there was no trace of bodily injury and the physician smelled no poison on the King's lips. Had they not all been completely certain that the previous inhabitants of their country were all extinct or driven out Narnian witchcraft might have been blamed, but that was ludicrous.

The baby fusses still as the men lower their torches to the pyre. The ceremonial oils drizzled across the wood ignite quickly, and it isn't long before her husband's face is lost among the dancing flames. She hates them for being so eager to consume his body, she hates the torch bearers for lighting the fire, and she hates the holy men for giving the order to do so. She hates the crowds that have amassed and who cry out in grief when they did not know the King at all, and she hates the singers who have now reached a high wailing pitch that strikes right to her very core.

Miraz has approached her without her notice and places his large hand – though not so large as her husband's – over the baby's tiny head.

"Thankfully we still have little Caspian to remember him by," he says, though she barely hears him. "He is our hope now. He will be your comfort for as long as you both live."

Beside Miraz his betrothed Prunaprismia casts him a quick look, but the Queen has neither the time nor the inclination to interpret it. She also has no words to reply to her husband's brother, though a proper Queen should always have a dignified reply to any address. She doesn't care whether Miraz thinks she is a proper Queen or not. She finds she cares very little about anything at the moment. Thick smoke is snaking heavenward from the pyre, curling and licking at the sky that is otherwise a brilliant shade of blue. She wishes that it would envelop her and shield her from view, or at the very least hide the scene before her from her eyes. She has heard that Calormene women are fond of hiding their faces behind veils and wishes that such a style would have reached this far north.

She will burn this black mourning dress when she returns to her chambers.

The crowds are beginning to disperse. Some of the peasant women lovingly toss flowers into the flames as they leave; it is getting toward evening and there is work to be done that can be put off no longer. The time for her escape is drawing near. She can almost breathe.

Miraz turns to her again. "Your Majesty will be attending the Regent Ceremony tomorrow, I trust?"

Her skin bristles. It is the unfortunate misfortune of royalty that no matter how much pain has been brought on by a death there is still a country to be governed. She would have left the country leaderless if it had meant that they would not be replacing her husband so quickly. It seems cruel to mourn a man one day and usher another into his position the very next. But the fact remains that her son, the rightful heir, is little more than a newborn and cannot possible take his father's place. There must be a Regent, and it is to be Miraz. She would not have wanted the title anyway, even if she had been an eligible candidate. All she wants now is to go home to her family's estate in the North, to take the baby and never look upon this castle again. Unfortunately, she knows that this cannot be. Little Caspian must be raised in the halls of his fathers; he must be educated and taught to ride and joust and fight and he must be where the public can see and admire and grow to love him. And because she cannot lose the other most important person in her life, she will stay, too.

Just in time she remembers to give a curt nod in response, and Miraz is satisfied. He makes to grasp her elbow to support her during their withdrawal back into the castle, but she deftly turns away and instead grants that privilege to Depthellian, an aged courtier and trusted advisor to her late husband. Prunaprismia is quick to take her betrothed's available arm, and slowly the little group makes their way into the palace.

A new day will dawn tomorrow as the end of the reign of Caspian IX is marked and the beginning of Miraz's Regency is begun. She doesn't know what the future holds for her or for her little one who is all she has left of her husband. Tomorrow, she will begin her new life as widow and Queen Mother. Tomorrow, she will have to be brave and learn to face the world alone. But that is tomorrow. For today, she will retreat to her chambers and her empty bed, and she will finally give voice to her lamentations.

Today, she will cry.

* * *

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. And, as always, I am ever in search of a willing beta :)


	2. Chapter 1: Lilies

Chapter 1: Lilies

_**Eleven years earlier.**_

The lilies were tall in the meadow, their bright orange and crimson petals shining translucent in the midday sun. Bees buzzed lazily to and fro, drowsy from the heat and the overabundance of nectar to be found in the flowering field. It was the very peak of summer in the North, and the high grasses had grown so tall that they waved just above the eye-level of a small, slight girl and mostly hid her from view. Until one drew quite close, the most that could be seen of her was a dark spot of hair that remained unmoving in the undulating sea of grass.

Avayna, ten years old and somewhat newly out of the nursery, stood barefoot in the bright Narnian sunshine, her long fingers twisting a circlet of grass and daylilies into a coronet with the practiced ease of one who has spent many a summer's day in such labors. Her face was screwed up in a concentrated frown as she worked; lilies were a bit more difficult than the daisies that so frequently comprised her crowns. The heat of the day had caused sweat to plaster strands of dark hair to her face and neck, and she had pushed her long sleeves, light material though it was, up over her elbows so that the wind might cool her skin.

Her sister's footfalls were muted by the soft earth, and the sound of her movements was disguised by the music of the wind rippling through the tall grass. Ninnia was beside her almost before she knew it.

"Another crown?" the older girl said, reaching out to help secure a particularly uncooperative stem into place.

"For Mother's birthday," Avayna replied, not looking up and apparently unsurprised by the sudden interruption to her solitude. "You know how she loves lilies. Father is forever having them brought in this time of year."

Ninnia nodded, though her sister, intent on her work, didn't see the movement. "The whole house smells of them. Mother says that theirs is the scent of summer." She reached out to pluck a particularly vibrant flower from its tall stem and deposited it into her sister's waiting open palm. The two girls were nearly as alike as can be, just over a year apart in age and inseparable companions. They shared the same dark hair and were almost the same height, causing many to mistake them for twins at first glance. Ninnia, however, had the blueish-gray eyes of their mother while her younger sister had inherited their father's dark brown ones, and even for a child so young there was something striking about Avayna's face that her pretty older sister lacked.

"Is Rev following you?" Avayna asked, twisting the ends of the chain together to complete the circle.

Ninnia shook her head. "Governess detained him. Something about his history of Caspian the Conqueror. And Father wanted to speak with him after."

"Probably something he must do now that Lord Drenken is here."

"Something _he_ must do," Ninnia grumbled. "Revilian gets to have all the fun when guests are here."

"He will be the next Lord of Andowell," Avayna pointed out. She showed off the finished crown of daylilies, holding it gingerly with both hands. "Do you think it's big enough?"

Ninnia shrugged. "She'll love and wear it the same."

"That's not what I asked, Nin."

Her older sister shrugged again. "Looks fine to me. I wish that we got to do something more than curtsey and smile prettily when the Lords come. If only Andowell wasn't so very far, perhaps they would bring their children as well."

Avayna smiled. "You just want to get a sight of Lord Drenken's eldest son."

Ninnia had the grace to blush. "And why shouldn't I? If you had a betrothed, you would want to meet him, too. I'll wager that Prince Caspian has met his betrothed, and Prince Miraz would, too, if he had one."

"Princes are much different than ladies from country Houses," Avayna pointed out. "Everyone goes to Telmar City, but why would anyone want to come all the way to Andowell?"

Ninnia was silent for a while, presumably sulking. "I just don't understand how having guests at the manor house can be so very dull."

Avayna cracked a small smile and was about to reply when a cry came across the meadow. She peered through the waving grasses, trying to make out who had called, but could see little more than a patch of brown bobbing toward them. As it neared, she caught sight of a lanky figure galloping through the tall grasses. Ninnia had turned as well, and now stood shielding her eyes against the sun.

"Nin! 'Vayna!"

"Rev," Ninnia stated, and Avayna nodded, watching their brother Revilian bounding toward them. The Heir of Andowell was nearly fourteen years old, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a spattering of freckles across the rather pointed nose peculiar to their mother's family. As he came nearer across the wide meadow, they could make out the excitement in his young face.

"Nin! 'Vayna! You shall never guess what Father's just told me!"

"The Archenlanders have changed their minds and now you're wedding Opella tomorrow?" Ninnia shot back, her thoughts still clearly on the subject of betrothals.

Revilian's brows furrowed in confusion as he approached, skidding to a halt in front of his sisters. Breathless from the long run from the manor house, he gasped out, "What?"

"Nothing," Avayna cut in as Ninnia's mouth opened to form some sort of irrelevant reply. "What is it, Rev? What did Father tell you?"

His confusion was immediately forgotten as a wide grin spread over his face. "We're to go to Telmar City! We're going to meet the King!"

"Telmar City?" Ninnia repeated, incredulous. "All of us?"

"Well, Father and Mother, of course, and we three. The little ones are too small; they'll stay behind. There's to be a great holiday… Something about a meeting of nobles, but there will be a party in honor of the Crown Prince's birthday and banquets and a tournament and perhaps even a masque and we are all to come!"

Ninnia squealed with delight and grasped Avayna's hands to spin her in a gleeful circle, knocking the lily crown to the ground. "So we shall meet the Princes, then?" she exclaimed breathlessly. "Cousin Uvila writes that they are the handsomest boys in the country!"

"Except for you, Rev," Avayna put in with a giggle.

Revilian made a bit of a face. "I don't know about that," he replied quickly. "But Father wishes to present us to His Majesty the King and, if possible, the Princes as well."

"And we shall get to see Uncle Uvilas!" Ninnia cried. "And Aunt has just had the new baby…"

"We're to stay with Uncle in his home in the city," Rev affirmed. "All the lords of the great Houses will be there, and Lord Drenken told Father that many are bringing their families."

Ninnia's eyes went wide. "Is… is Lord Drenken bringing his family?"

Avayna giggled. "What she means is, 'is Anderric Passarid going to be there?'"

Ninnia shot her a glare. Revilian rolled his eyes. Despite the fact that the Heir of Andowell had been betrothed to an Archenlandish girl named Opella – his second cousin on his mother's side – since the age of five, he spared his engagement little more thought than whether or not his tunic matched his belt. The betrothal of his younger sister held even less interest.

"Lord Drenken is bringing all five of his children, I heard him say so to Father," Revilian finally answered. "I suppose that means his heir is coming as well."

Ninnia said nothing, but her pleased expression belied her attempts at nonchalance. Avayna laughed, and Revilian gave his sister a playful nudge. "Come on, then," he said. "Let's to the Hall. I'm sure Father wants to share the news himself, so you probably should pretend I haven't told you."

0o0o0

Andowell Hall sat tall and stately in a wide clearing deep in the northwestern forests of Telmarine Narnia, and it took the children a good half hour's walking to make it from the meadow, through the wood, and across the grounds to its doorstep. The expansive, uninhabited woodland ran on forever and ever to the west, while Town punctuated the forest to the southeast. The Great Southern Road twisted and turned northward all the way from Telmar City until it forked a league away from the hall. One fork led to Andowell's door; the other deviated to the right and ran into the center of Town.

It was a grand hall, though according to Mother much older and less modern than the home where she had been raised in faraway Archenland. Lady Andowell was an elder daughter of one of the more prominent Archenlandish houses, and Avayna had always wondered what had brought her all the way to Narnia's northernmost province. Mother had always told her that it was because the Lord Kavidan had been so very handsome back then, but Avayna reasoned that it had more to do with the Andowell reputation.

The Andowells were an old family and, if Father and Governess could be believed, one of the greatest of the Narnian Houses. Legend held that Revilian Andowell (her brother's namesake and twelve generations removed from her father Kavidan), had been the right hand of the Conqueror and his most beloved friend and brother-in-arms. Since that long-ago time when their nation had swollen out of Telmar to settle the strange and uncivilized land of Narnia, generations of Andowells had sat in honor on the King's Councils, a position that was now held by her father's younger brother Uvilas in Telmar City. Kavidan himself made biannual trips to the capital, often gone for two months at a time, and it was said that he was a close and trusted friend of King Caspian VIII. Each time Kavidan left for the capital, his three eldest children (Tespiam and Anogh were still babies in the nursery) begged to be allowed to go along. Governess had been raised in Telmar City and had such wondrous stories of colorful marketplaces, people in all manner of dress, and a grand castle bigger than anything anyone had ever seen. Though he would not allow his children to go (he would always be in councils and Aunt Meriana had enough children to look after), Father always brought back wonderful presents. There were exotic southern fruits and vegetables that never made their way to the Town market, fine fabrics whose like she only saw from the wandering peddlers who came every summer, and, once, the greatest gift of all: a tiny silver set of cups and saucers for her and Ninnia's very own playtime use.

Avayna could not wait to behold all these marvels for herself. She cared little about the Princes and Anderric Passarid, though Ninnia had not stopped chattering about them since they'd left the meadow, and Revilian was focused solely on the great tournament to be held in Prince Caspian's honor.

"Do you think there will be other people invited to the celebrations, Rev?" Avayna asked suddenly as they emerged from the shaded wood into the bright sunshine of the lawn. The lily crown was still grasped carefully in her small fist, though it had long ceased to be the most exciting thing in her afternoon.

"Other people?" he repeated. ""Other people like who?"

"Like Dwarfs and Dryads?" Ninnia teased.

"No," Avayna retorted, sticking out her tongue. "Real people, like from other places. And don't let Mother hear you talking such nonsense. You know how she hates it."

"Ooh, like the Dark Men from Calormen?" Ninnia breathed, fictional characters forgotten.

"Or the Elephant Riders from the far West!" Avayna added. "Father says he saw one, once."

"I should think so," Revilian answered. "If there's to be a big celebration I should think that envoys will come from the Far Corners."

"Why is there to be such a grand celebration?" Avayna asked. "The Crown Prince has had birthdays before."

"Yes, but this summer he turns fifteen, and is now a man. Should anything happen to the King, the Prince could assume the throne without the need of a Regent. They'll be celebrating that." Revilian looked rather proud of his answer, and Avayna had the sneaking suspicion that he might have asked the very same question of Father not two hours before.

"And his betrothal will become official," Ninnia put in, single-minded as always. "All betrothals become official when the boy turns fifteen." Her words held no little amount of spite. "Now he could marry that cow Marha Beaversdam, though thank goodness he won't for years yet."

"Ninnia!" Avayna cried. "You can't say such things! She is to be Queen of Narnia!"

"Well, she isn't yet, is she?" Ninnia asked obstinately. "And everyone says that she's an absolute troll."

"Everyone who?" Rev laughed. "Listen to Ninnia, acting like she's the expert on court gossip."

"Everyone no one," Avayna corrected. "And anyway it's not true. Mother met her once at Beaversdam and said that she is a perfectly nice girl."

"A perfectly nice girl who looks like a troll, then," Ninnia said, her tone unchanged. "I hope she comes down with a pox."

"Ninnia!" Rev and Avayna exclaimed together, though Revilian was laughing.

"All right, not a pox," Ninnia relented with a long-suffering sigh. "But it would be nice if the engagement was broken off."

"You're betrothed yourself," Revilian pointed out. "It's not like he could marry you if it was."

"Oh, I'm perfectly pleased to be Lady Passarid," Ninnia said with an airy wave of her hand. "But just think, Avayna. The Crown Prince could then marry you and I'd practically be a princess."

They all laughed, and Revilian threw an arm around his younger sister's shoulder. "I tire of all this marriage talk, Nin. I don't want my sisters any farther away from Andowell Hall than the meadow. Perhaps when I'm Lord I'll break off all your engagements and keep you here forever to keep me company."

"What about Opella?" Ninnia asked.

"Well, you could keep her company, too, I suppose."

Ninnia laughed with a toss of her head as they approached the great steps that led into the Hall. The heavy doors were thrown wide to allow the warm breeze and bright sunlight to bathe the usually dimly-lit vestibule.

Avayna, deeply amused, asked, "And what of Anderric? What will you give him to soothe the sting of losing such a wife as our dear sister?"

Revilian considered this for a moment as the three made their way through the vestibule and into the darker inner hallways of the manor house. Finally, as they turned toward the east wing and began climbing the flight of stairs that would lead them to their father's study, he gave his answer. "I'll give him Anogh. One Andowell girl for another, and I'm not nearly so attached to her." He couldn't help cracking a smile as his sisters laughed aloud. The youngest of Lord Kavidan's children was barely five, a baby still and practically a stranger to her three oldest siblings.

They were still laughing and chattering when they approached the study door, which creaked open to admit them just as Ninnia had raised a small fist to knock. The ever-smiling face of Kerremy, their father's steward, appeared in the doorway.

"Just as I suspected, my lord. Your children."

"Such a racket could not have meant anything else. Let them in, Kerremy." Their father's voice was amused, rather than annoyed, and at his bidding the steward pulled the heavy oak door open wider to admit the three visitors.

The study was a brightly-lit place, welcoming despite the solemnity that seemed to pervade the room. Every space of wall not occupied by a door or a floor-to-ceiling window was crowded with shelves, which in turn were filled almost to bursting with books: histories, journals, record-books, genealogies, collections of letters, and the like. Near the very center of the far wall sat a large table of dark polished wood. What little surface area could be seen amid the miscellaneous clutter was worn and discolored from a century and a half of use by the lords of Andowell Hall. It was at this table that the current Lord sat, surrounded by parchments, quills, and unlit candles. This was the father that Avayna would always remember, a quiet man poring over accounts and letters in the peaceful solitude of his study, keeping meticulous records and constantly at the service of his king, lower lords, and the common folk. When she was smaller, she would play at her father's feet underneath that big table. Aside from the occasional intrusion of Kavidan's legs as he stretched his aching knees, there was little to stop her from believing herself to be a lady locked in a tower by a cruel uncle, or perhaps even the beautiful Princess Elyse, enchanted and hidden in an underground cavern until the looming Long Winter could be defeated.

Her time spent under her father's desk comprised the only moments that she could pretend to be whomever she wished; when she played with Ninnia the older girl always ended up getting the best parts to play. Ninnia was always Elyse and Avayna was relegated to the parts of the crone enchantress or the evil Witch of Winter. Worse still was when Revilian was nowhere to be found and Avayna had to play all the boy parts, too.

"And what business do my children have at this hour?" Kavidan asked, drawing Avayna's thoughts and eyes away from the worn wood of his desk. "Invitations to help my find those scrolls of old Doctor Yeles I've been seeking, I should imagine."

"The Mad Physician?" Ninnia blurted out, making a face. "No, Father! Rev's only just told us that we're to go to Telmar City with you and Mother and Lord Drenken and all the Passarids!"

"May we go tomorrow, Father?" Avayna spoke up.

Kavidan laughed. "Such journeys are not lightly undertaken, my sweet Avayna. I'm afraid tomorrow would be quite impossible. There are provisions to store, packing to be done, business to complete at the Hall, and all manner of other little chores that must be finished before we set off. It's quite a long journey, you know."

Avayna bit her lip with a frown as Ninnia asked how long a journey it might be.

"A week at the least," their father replied. "But we shall be stopping each night and supping with some of the lords of the Houses along the way."

"Feasts?" Ninnia's eyes brightened again. "With dancing?"

"Perhaps."

"And how long shall we stay in Telmar City, Father?"

"Long enough to see the tournament?" Revilian put in hopefully.

"Certainly. Your uncle Uvilas has written that he aims to compete in the melee, though he will undoubtedly be the oldest man there," Kavidan's eyes shone with merriment. "I would not miss watching the melee for all the iron in the northern mountains."

Revilian looked confused. "I thought that Uncle was the greatest swordsman in Narnia, Father? You speak as though you don't think him able to compete."

"At one time that was true, my son. Your uncle bested me constantly almost from the time he picked up a sword, and did the same to most every man he came across in a melee. But there's a funny thing that happens as the moons wax and wane. A man who had previously bested every knight in a tournament suddenly finds himself slowing, and boys who the day before were still at their mothers' knees are suddenly able to wield a sword with a speed unique to the young and fearless. Age can do strange things to a man's abilities, but it doesn't always inform that man of the change it is making."

"You think he will lose badly."

Kavidan laughed. "Do not think me so cruel, Revilian. I do not look forward to watching my brother's humiliation. There is a lot of fight left in old Uvilas, and the real enjoyment will come from watching the passion with which he attempts to match the younger men's speed and stamina. He may yet come away with a victory, or near to it."

"I should love to watch Uncle fight," Revilian said with passion. "I do wish he was our swordmaster, rather than old Sir Guff."

"Sir Guff instructs you well enough for now," Kavidan admonished, though not unkindly. "Perhaps one day, however, you might spend a year under your uncle's tutelage. But that is a subject for another time."

Revilian positively beamed with excitement, but Ninnia could not have appeared more bored. "But how _long_, Father?" she repeated.

Kavidan laughed again. "A fortnight, my Ninnia. A fortnight or more, at least. Enough time for all the feasting and masques and celebrations you could hope for."

"Revilian said something about a meeting of nobles, Father," Avayna spoke up as Ninnia clapped her hands with glee.

"Indeed, Avayna. It's the Crown Prince's fifteenth birthday, and the time has come for all the lords great and small to bend their knees and swear allegiance to him as Heir Apparent. There is much to be done by way of councils and treaties and agreements to solidify his succession."

"His what, Father?"

"King Caspian is putting everything into place so that when he dies, Prince Caspian can become the next King," her father explained. "It is custom, and has been for centuries. Some grumble that it's a lot of unnecessary words and signatures and ceremony."

"What do you say, Father?" Avayna asked.

"My sweet, terrible things can happen after the death of a King, and this land knows that all too well. The lords who grumble are those who have forgotten how we Telmarines came to conquer this country called Narnia. How the disappearance of the heirless Four Monarchs was the beginning of Narnia's undoing."

"But that was all a fairy tale, the bit about the Four Kings and Queens," Ninnia interjected. "Talking animals, trees that moved and spoke, magic… It's all just stories. Imagine four rulers at the same time, and none of them married to each other!"

Revilian agreed, his confidence bolstered by his recent history assignment. "Nin's right, Father. There was a king when Caspian Conqueror came to Narnia."

"Yes, but he wasn't much of a king," Kavidan explained. "In fact, he was called Wennil the Worthless by his own people. After the disappearance of their monarchs, the Narnians struggled to determine succession. Each new king or queen was more ineffective than the last, and the result was poverty, unrest, and weakness. Wennil was the last in a line of rulers tossed haphazardly on the throne because there was no clear heir. After the Conquest, Caspian I was determined not to let the same fate befall his people, and therefore developed a lengthy and ceremonious but nearly unbreakable system to prevent it."

The children were silent for a moment, and eventually their father chuckled. "Enough history for one day. There's much to be done and little time to do it. Avayna, you'd best get that lily crown to your mother ere it wilts in this heat, and I daresay she may need help overseeing the preparations. You and Ninnia run along and see if you can't be of service to her. Revilian, our horsemaster is in need of some assistance now that two of his stableboys have fallen ill. We'll need our horses in fine condition for the journey. I, for my part, have kept good Kerremy waiting long enough."

* * *

**Author's Note:** FINALLY! At last, after a year of wrestling with it, the first chapter is here! Thank you to all the fine ladies at NFFR who prodded me along, listened to me in my distress, and offered ideas and encouragement as I tried to get things underway. Special thanks to **snacky** for serving as beta.

I'm truly very excited to write this story. I don't know why, but Caspian's mother has lodged herself into my creative process and I can't seem to shake her. I'm very much looking forward to exploring this time in Narnian history and doing a bit of world-building along the way.

The title comes (as best as I can find) from the Russell Crowe "Robin Hood" movie, where upon his sword is written "Rise and rise again, until lambs become lions." I personally discovered it in promotional material for the Penn State wrestling team last year. Blanket disclaimer.

This story aims to be compliant with "She Waits," though I did have to age Avayna up a little bit for her first upcoming meeting with Caspian IX. My one-shot "Cry" has been turned into the prologue.

I'd love any thoughts, suggestions, ideas, and constructive criticism you might have to offer! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 2: The Road

Chapter 2: The Road

"It _could_ be a little less dusty," Ninnia complained with a cough that was more than a bit over-dramatic. Avayna stifled a giggle as their lady mother turned her gaze from the passing countryside to her eldest daughter.

"We could close the windows," Elmany of Archenland suggested, in a tone of voice that indicated that they would do nothing of the sort. It was dim and sweltering enough inside the carriage without closing the thick shutters.

Ninnia scowled, but said nothing. She crossed her arms on the narrow windowsill and rested her chin on them, blinking through the dust to watch the rolling grassland pass by. "I wish we could ride up front with Father and Rev."

Revilian, by virtue of being a boy, was lucky enough to ride with Kavidan at the front of the procession on the horse he had received for his last birthday. There were a great many men, horses, oxen, and wagons between the standard-bearers and the heavy wooden structure that bore the ladies of Andowell, and so the carriage was constantly enveloped in a cloud of grit and grime.

"It's better than mud," Revilian had explained knowingly after the girls, specifically Ninnia, had complained about the dust that first day. "We'll make good time. You can't get stuck in dust."

"You can't breathe in it, either," Ninnia had shot back.

Avayna was fighting a cold, and at the first sign of her sniffles Lady Elmany had nearly sent her back to the manor house with one of Father's men. Lord Kavidan had intervened, and so now Avayna sat smushed between Mother and Governess, trying very hard to wipe her runny nose in the most ladylike and mother-pleasing fashion. The dust, however, certainly didn't help with the sneezing.

The whole countryside was dry, she had noticed. As soon as the timber- and mineral-rich hills of the Northwest gave way to the undulating plains that surrounded Telmar City, it became obvious that drought had been harsh to the region. She didn't know much about agriculture, but she was fairly confident that fields should not be quite as brown as those she was seeing. She had also overheard Sir Lewess, a minor lord with whom the family had lodged on the third night of their journey, telling Father that the farmers were worried about a poor harvest. The story was the same along much of the road. Although the peasants cheered the passing caravan, there was something about their joy that didn't quite reach their eyes.

"When I am Lady Passarid," Ninnia continued to anyone who would listen, "I will ride my own mare at the head of the column."

"When you are Lady Passarid," their mother replied, "You will submit to the wishes of your lord husband, and you will conduct yourself in a manner that honors him. I somewhat doubt that that includes straddling a horse with the standard-bearers."

She didn't say it unkindly, but Ninnia knew better than to retort. It didn't stop her from scowling. Avayna sniffled to hide another laugh.

The wooden structure rolled heavily on, and Avayna wondered if Warnick was intentionally driving them over every bump and hole or if the road was just that rough. For all the excitement that had accompanied their grand departure from Andowell Hall eight mornings ago, the long days of slow, bumpy, dusty travel were exhausting. Each night they were hosted and feasted by minor lords and landed knights eager for their liege's favor, which provided a welcome reprieve from a lengthy day of jostling and sore backsides. Last night they were guests at the immense manse of the Pinnacles. Lord Pinnacle was her father's friend and equal, and his son Zirus was just Avayna's age. The feast was wonderful, but the pudgy Zirus had tried to kiss her during the dancing and Revilian had very nearly hit him when he saw. Avayna had spent much of the evening worrying that all of the talk between Father and Lord Pinnacle might be including the subject of her betrothal to the pig-like Pinnacle heir.

Pushy little lords aside, she would have given up all the feasts if it meant that they would reach Telmar City all the sooner. Today, at last, was to be that day. Father had told her that they would see the city gates before nightfall, and she could hardly wait.

Avayna had heard stories of the capital city of Telmarine Narnia for as long as she could remember. Governess was the first and most frequent storyteller; she had grown up in the capital and would tell them of the crowded streets teeming with scents and colors and accents from all over the known world. Minstrels and other wandering musicians who had found their way to the doorstep of the manor house entertained their lord and his family with ballads and poems of the great deeds done in the city and across the realm. Avayna and her siblings would listen wide-eyed, her brother Revilian demanding more tales of knights and tourneys while Ninnia begged for another love story or sonnet. Avayna, for her part, sat and listened rapturously to them all without prejudice or preference, only the burning desire to see and experience it all for herself.

It was Uncle Uvilas's stories she loved best, however, for her uncle was a magnificent storyteller and knew just how to paint a picture with his words that could send his nieces and nephew shrieking with laughter or cheering with glee. That was the best part about Uncle Uvilas's stories: they were never sad for long and the bad people never won in the end. Uncle also did the most wonderful impressions of the other lords and ladies at court. If her uncle's colorful tales were to be believed, Avayna imagined that Telmar City and the people in it must be magnificent indeed.

_"More palaces than even your sister could possibly imagine," Uncle had told her once. "Manses and shops and stables, and rising above it all the great castle of the Conqueror, where generations of kings have ruled Narnia and Telmar since the first Caspian first brought us to this land. You'll see it all one day, my sweet girl, and you'll have to remind yourself to breathe."_

She had never been farther than Town, and she could barely imagine so many people and so many buildings all in one place or the kind of grandeur Uncle described.

"Avayna's daydreaming again," Ninnia giggled, bringing her out of her reverie and back into the hot, dusty carriage.

"Are you excited to see the city, Lady Avayna?" Lady Rynn asked in her sweet, lyrical voice. She and Lady Sitsy, her mother's ladies-in-waiting, were seated across from Avayna. They both belonged to lesser families, but were ladies in their own right, and Lady Sitsy had even come the whole way from Archenland with Mother when she and Father were wed.

Avayna nodded and dabbed at her nose with her kerchief. "Yes, Lady Rynn."

"Lady Avayna has been starry-eyed for weeks," Governess said with a kind smile. "It was a lion's task to get her to pay attention to her lessons."

"How much further, Mother?" Ninnia interrupted, with just a tinge of whine in her voice.

"Nearly there, child," Mother answered. "It is almost sundown. We should be able to see the gates soon."

Avayna's heart leapt a little, and she squirmed between Mother and Governess, trying to see across them and out the open window. Sunlight was streaming straight through the window to her right, which meant that the sun was fast approaching the western horizon.

It was only a few moments later that her ears caught the shrill sound of trumpets from somewhere in the distance, and she met Ninnia's equally wide eyes.

"Telmar City," Avayna breathed as Ninnia scrambled to her knees to peek out the window, pretending not to hear their mother's admonishment to sit down and not embarrass the entire House of Andowell by gawking like a farm maid at a fair. Avayna was craning her own neck to see past Governess, who upon noticing this gestured for the girl to trade places with her. Avayna bobbed as much of a curtsey as she could muster while stepping around Governess in the bouncing carriage. Once properly settled, she peered out the window, squinting through the dust and trying to catch her first glimpse of the city's fabled wall.

_"As high as two men standing on each other's shoulders!" Uncle Uvilas had said. "Thick enough for three men to walk abreast along the parapets at the top, with bricks carved from the mountains of Telmar and brought here by the wagonload. They say the wagon train stretched from horizon to horizon, my Avayna, can you imagine? With all those bricks sparkling in the sun due to the flecks of quartz found therein… And gates of solid gold - they're just for show, of course; there's an iron portcullis as thick as your waist that can be closed in front of the gates at a moment's notice if the city is threatened…"_

All she could see now was a faint line in the distance as the road began to curve toward it. The dust and the haze and the front of the caravan all worked together to block anything else from view. There were more people about now, Avayna noticed. The farms were closer together as they neared the city, and they passed a few scattered inns and wayhouses and taverns as well. A shepherd and his wife stood near the road with their immense flock scattered all around them, keeping at bay any of their sheep who might wander and be in the way of the horses and wagons. Avayna gave a shy wave as she met their eyes, and the woman smiled back with a wave of her own as her husband swatted back a curious sheep with his staff.

"Oh, look, 'Vayna!" Ninnia cooed. "Look at the little lambs!"

"Why do the inns all have such funny names?" Avayna asked Governess as they passed a row of haphazard wooden establishments. "The 'Pig and Pumpkin' doesn't sound like a very nice place to sleep."

"Or the 'Drunken Dog' right beside!" Ninnia said with a laugh, pointing to the tavern in question. "They make the 'White Rose' in Town seem rather dull. Look, there's the 'Perilous Pirate.'"

"I suppose the more interesting the name, the more attractive they are to travelers," Governess replied.

"'The Buxom Beauties of –'"

"Ninnia, stop reading signs this moment," Mother interrupted sharply. Ninnia's head snapped to Lady Elmany in surprise, but Lady Rynn whispered in her ear before Ninnia had time to question her mother's command.

"That's not a tavern or an inn, dear one."

Ninnia's eyes went wide, and Avayna giggled. The older girl turned back to the window with renewed interest, though any sign-reading from that point forward was done silently.

They came upon a wide river that the caravan crossed by way of a sturdy wooden bridge, with children playing in the water underneath and women doing laundry or gathering pails for their homes or gardens. The fields were slightly greener here, though she didn't know whether that was because the drought had not been so harsh or because of the efforts of the men she saw carrying heavy buckets of water hanging from yokes across their broad, bare shoulders. The farmers cast long shadows as they moved through their fields of waist-high wheat.

"Oh, Ninnia, look!" Avayna exclaimed suddenly. "Look! It's the wall!"

The carriage was rounding a little curve in the road, and with each turn of the wheels more and more of the city was coming into view. Avayna felt her heart begin to race. They were still at least a league away, and it was every bit as grand as Uncle had said.

The setting sun was reflected a million times and more by the specks of quartz in the dark gray stone, making the great outer wall of Telmar City glitter like one of Mother's Archenlandish diamonds. Peering out above the wall were the tops of more buildings than Avayna had ever thought could possibly exist in one place: spindly spires, great belltowers, square rooftops, and enormous-looking domes of temples and palaces. It was like a city from a story, one of the fairy tales that Nurse used to tell them when they were small, but it was here and real and as a Narnian it belonged to her. Her heart felt fit to burst.

"Oh, Mother, it's beautiful. Do they have cities like this in Archenland?" she asked in half a whisper.

Mother smiled. "There are fine cities in Archenland, my sweet one, tucked away in mountain valleys so beautiful that they make you want to cry, but even I will admit that there is no city in Archenland so grand-looking as Telmar City."

Avayna turned with a proud smile back to the window, only to frown as another curve in the road obscured the wall from sight. They were traveling directly toward the city now; the road ran straight and true for the final league all the way up to the golden gates that were thrust wide to allow the last travelers, traders, and farmers in before sundown.

It wasn't long before the carriage was rumbling through the tents that had been hastily constructed for the men-at-arms and household members who had accompanied lords and ladies great and small across Narnia to the prince's celebration. The encampments were stuffed full of all kinds of people, with the myriad standards of each House flapping gaily in the late afternoon breeze like pennants announcing the entrance to a fair in every color imaginable. Men in leather mail, simple jerkins, or surcoats emblazoned with the colors and emblem of their lord went about on all manner of business or pleasure, while women and even a few children bustled in their midst. Avayna couldn't help but think what fun it might be to explore the ramshackle alleyways of the tent city with the children. No doubt there would be no lack of merry-making once the lords and ladies were safely shut up in the city for the night and the lesser folk were free to celebrate the prince's birthday in their own way.

She could smell the smoke of hundreds of cookfires and the aromas of the food being prepared on and around them. For the first time, she realized how hungry she was. It felt so long since Lady Sitsy had passed out the apples, bread, and cheese that had made up their afternoon meal, and she hoped that Aunt Meriana's cook would have a supper prepared for when they arrived.

The wall was coming back into view, and much closer now. Trumpets sounded from the parapets in announcement of their coming, and before Avayna knew it they were passing through the immense gate and into the city. She caught a quick glimpse of the open gates shining golden in the sun before the carriage was through and she was caught up in a world of stone and wood and brick and, oh, so many _people_.

She could hear the crier going ahead of them, bellowing for people to make way for Lord Kavidan of Andowell and his noble family. They rolled past a group of men-at-arms and other folk, and she was startled to recognize a few of their faces until she realized that they were members of her own traveling party. Having seen their lord safely into the city, they must have been given leave to stand aside while a smaller contingent of guards and servants who would stay with the family at Uncle Uvilas's home escorted them the rest of the way there. For the twentieth time that day and the hundred and twentieth since they left Andowell, she was jealous of Revilian for getting to ride through the city on horseback while she was limited to the view out a single window.

She glanced over at Ninnia, who was doing her best to look very prim and proper despite appearing ready to jump out of her skin with curiosity and excitement. Even the ladies Rynn and Sitsy had stopped chattering and were looking out the window as the carriage moved through the crowded streets. Avayna could have watched the houses, shops, stables, and other buildings go by for hours had her stomach not been protesting so loudly, but thankfully it wasn't long until she felt the carriage roll to a stop and heard merry shouting.

"Uncle Uvilas!" she exclaimed, recognizing his boisterous laugh. There was a harsh sound of wood scraping wood as the handle was turned and the thick carriage door was opened, allowing in the last of the evening sun and a view of Uvilas spreading his arms wide to welcome his female relations. He was a short man, almost a head shorter than Father, with a barrel chest and a thick brown beard that nearly obscured the square line of his jaw. The hair around his head was similarly thick, though it had grown thinner on top since she had last seen him at Christmas two years past. His wide smile was the same, however, kind and welcoming with two holes on the left side where teeth had been knocked out in one of his melees.

"My dear sister!" he cried, reaching a hand into the carriage to help Mother navigate the two steps down to the cobbled street. "How glad I am to see you in Telmar City again! You look all the lovelier for the journey."

Mother laughed and kissed her brother-in-law on each cheek. "Your silver tongue never fails you, Uvilas. We've all been subjected to ten days' worth of dust and are each in need of a warm bath!"

"But all the more beautiful for it," Uncle continued without missing a beat. "I rather like Lady Elmany's hair that shade of dusty red, Meriana, don't you agree?"

Aunt Meriana, who had deep reddish-brown hair herself, shook her head with a small smile. "Uvilas, do let them all get out of the carriage before you overwhelm them with your flatteries." She clasped hands with Elmany and they exchanged kisses as Uvilas continued, unfazed.

"And where are my darling nieces?" He gallantly handed Governess, Lady Sitsy, and Lady Rynn down from the carriage before Ninnia appeared in the wooden doorway.

"We're here, Uncle!" she crowed, reaching out a hand to be helped down as the other ladies had before her. Uvilas made an elaborate bow that made her giggle, and handed her down with comical pomp. Avayna, last of all, held her hand out the same way, but was plucked right out of the doorway and spun around to her delight before finding her slippered feet on the cobblestones. Father and Revilian were there as well, having already made their greetings by virtue of having been among the first in the party to arrive. Revilian's freckled face was caked in reddish dust, making his blue eyes and white teeth stand out all the more from his dirty cheeks as he grinned. He clearly had very much enjoyed riding with Father through the city like a man grown.

"It is good to see you, Uncle," Avayna said, bobbing a polite curtsey to him. "And you, too, Aunt Meriana." She had to sniffle badly but managed to resist until her sister spoke up. When the attention turned to Ninnia, Avayna did her best to dab her nose with her handkerchief in the most ladylike way she could muster, hoping that Mother wouldn't notice.

"We're ever so excited to be here," Ninnia added with a quick curtsey of her own. "Can we see the new baby?"

Meriana laughed. "In time. She's sleeping now. But you remember your other cousins, don't you?" She gestured to three girls who stood along the wall beside the great wooden door to their home. "Uvila, Asani, Meri, come greet your cousins."

The girls came forward and there were kisses exchanged all around. Uvila was the same age as Rev, but she was taller by an inch or two, with bright red hair that must have been inherited from somewhere in her mother's family. Asani was nine and skinny as a reed, with hazel eyes that were a little too close together, while Meri was squat and round and only six.

"You must be exhausted," Aunt said after the greetings were finished and the horses and carriage had been taken away. There were only a few men-at-arms and members of their household left now, including Governess and Mother's ladies. "Cook has prepared a meal for us when you're settled. The servants will see to your things." She turned to a hook-nosed woman dressed all in black, with sharp eyes and a stern mouth. "Dear Mrs. Reine, will you please see to it that Lord and Lady Andowell and the children find their rooms? And do have some water brought up as well so that they might refresh themselves."

The woman, who must have been the housekeeper, nodded. "This way, milords, miladies."

As other men began gathering the heavy trunks, two of Uncle's manservants pushed open the doors and the Northern Andowells and their city relatives disappeared inside.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Apologies for the horrible delay in this chapter (again). I've been working on an update to this story for the past few months as a part of the Big Bang challenge over at the Narnia Fic Exchange LJ, but I think that the challenge may have fallen to the wayside. Thus, I'll just post everything here! Look for another chapter in the next week or two.

Special thanks to everyone who assisted with ideas, beta-ing, and other support, especially **Heliopause**, **rthstewart**, and **greaves**. I would welcome any thoughts, feedback, and suggestions from other readers as well.


	4. Chapter 3: The City

Chapter 3: The City

A ray of sunlight flickered across her face, slowly drawing her from sleep as it streamed through the billowing bedcurtains that were caught in the early morning breeze. For a moment, Avayna didn't recognize her surroundings; the curtains were gold, not the pale pink of her own, and the sheets were scratchier and the pillow lumpy in the wrong places. She could hear Ninnia's heavy breathing as she slept; that much was normal at least.

It was then that she remembered a long journey, a family reunited, a modest feast of roasted pork and at least twelve other dishes, a lovely bedroom to share with her sister during their stay, a squabble at night over whether to keep the window open or close it for the night – it was so noisy in the city! Ninnia had won that argument, and so Avayna had lain awake listening to horses clip-clopping on the cobbled streets and shouts and singing wafting on the air from distant taverns. There were all manner of sounds and smells this morning that were nothing like those that came in through her window at Andowell, and she smiled at remembering that Father had promised them a trip to the castle today. King Caspian, Uncle had said, was so eager to see his old friend and meet his children that he wouldn't even allow Father a day to rest before coming to court. Kavidan had grumbled something about impetuous and impatient old men, but Avayna could tell he was pleased and anxious to see the king.

Her cold seemed to be much better, she noticed, as she no longer felt the need to sniffle or sneeze. Taking care not to wake Ninnia beside her, Avayna slid out of bed and approached the open windows. Ninnia had thrown the leaded glass wide, and now that the sun had risen Avayna wanted to see if she could catch a glimpse of the castle in the distance. Uvila had told her that you could see the castle of the Conqueror from any building in the city, if only from the rooftop, but it appeared that Avayna's window was facing the wrong direction. Still, there were plenty of other minor palaces and gorgeous temples scattered among the houses and shops upon which to feast her eyes. The early morning sun painted them all with a lovely brushstroke of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows.

It wasn't long before the door opened and Governess came in, clicking her tongue at finding Ninnia still abed and Avayna still in her nightgown. A serving-woman came through behind her, holding a tray piled high with fruit and toast and two steaming cups of what might have been tea.

"Well, Lady Avayna," Governess said as the woman placed the tray on a writing desk and left, "what shall you wear to meet the king?"

o0o

In the end, a yellow gown was chosen for Avayna and blue for her sister, breakfast was hurriedly eaten, their hair was carefully arranged, and Governess led them down to the front hall. Lord and Lady Andowell were already there, along with Revilian in a new red surcoat with the Andowell crest on his right shoulder.

When Uvilas came in and told them all that the carriage would be there momentarily, Ninnia spoke up.

"Oh, Father, couldn't we please walk?" she pleaded. "We've been in the carriage for _days_ and you can't see anything through those windows!"

"And meet the king of Narnia with muddy hems and dirty slippers?" Lady Elmany quickly put in. "I should think not."

Upon seeing his eldest daughter's frown, Kavidan gave her a kind smile. "Not this morning, dear one. But perhaps on our way back from the castle."

"Is it very far?" Avayna asked, but the response was lost as a man entered to tell Uvilas that the carriage was ready. Mother beckoned to her, and they all made their way through the front hall to the door. Revilian was looking more serious than usual, and even Ninnia was quiet as all six of them climbed up into the wagon. Avayna found herself once again in the middle, but this time she was between Mother and Uncle. She hoped very much that there would be a walk about the city later, as there was little hope of seeing much of anything over her uncle's shoulder and out the tiny window.

It was a warm day and warmer in the carriage, as the breeze that had accompanied them on their last few days on the road was nowhere to be found here in the capital. Thankfully, it took less than an hour to navigate the busy streets all the way to the castle of the Conqueror, which was situated along a bend in the great river that formed the southern boundary of the city. It was downriver from the busy port, and there were grassy knolls and gardens covering the slope of land between the castle and the outer wall, which ran along the water's edge.

"_The wall forms an almost-complete circle around the city," Uncle Uvilas had explained. "It surrounds us on all sides, even running between the city and the river itself to the south. The only place where the city is exposed is at the port. There, the wall stops to allow for the commerce and travel that has made the city prosperous from the days of the Conqueror up until this very morning."_

"_But the port is fortified in other ways, isn't it, Uncle?" Revilian had asked. _

"_Most assuredly, young Rev. Rest assured, when you sleep in Telmar City it will be the safest rest you'll ever know."_

She barely had time to gape at the castle itself before they were ushered inside to the king's receiving hall. As she was handed down from the carriage by one of the servants, her eyes kept going up and up and up until she finally caught sight of the highest battlements. She had never seen anything so tall in her entire life. The next thing her mind registered through her wonder was her name being called and the sight of the rest of her family moving toward an iron-studded door that was three times as tall as she was. She scurried to catch up, and spent much of the trip through the labyrinthine castle corridors in great danger of running into something or someone because she was too busy studying everything around her. At last, however, they reached another door, smaller than the outer but still much taller than Father.

"Lord and Lady Andowell, here at the king's pleasure," Uncle Uvilas said to the guards, who each bowed low and pushed his half of the great wooden door open to reveal the hall beyond.

The throne room was three times the size of the receiving hall at Andowell where Father sat to hear petitions. The walls and vaulted ceilings were lined with huge, sculpted pillars, between which colorful tapestries and lifelike statues of the monarchs and heroes of Telmar and Narnia were interspersed. A wide carpet of a deep, midnight blue ran from the doorway all the way to a raised dais at the far end of the hall, where the Conqueror's Throne and its occupant sat bathed in colored light from the enormous stained-glass windows beyond. There were fifty or so others in the hall already, mostly members of the court and nobles visiting the city for the prince's birthday celebrations. The whole room was awash with color and light.

So awestruck was Avayna that the sound of one of the guards announcing their entrance made her jump.

"Your Majesty," he cried in a booming voice that carried the length of the hall, "Lord Kavidan Andowell, his wife Lady Elmany of Archenland, and their children, as well as his brother Lord Uvilas."

Upon hearing the names announced, the man upon the throne leapt to his feet with surprising alacrity for one so dignified and rotund. It was then that Avayna got a decent look at Caspian VIII, the much-beloved King of Narnia. He seemed a jolly sort of man, though that impression was much aided by the brilliant smile that was currently lighting his face at the sight of his old friend. A second chin was visible beneath his closely-trimmed blond beard, but even with his sizable belly he wasn't nearly so fat as the old priest back in Town. Much of the hair was gone from his head, but in its place was the same bejeweled crown that was forged by the Narnian barbarians for the first Caspian as tribute after the conquest.

_"Is it true that the Conqueror's Crown was made by Dwarfs?" Revilian had Governess asked once during their lessons._

_"So they say," Governess had replied. "But there are no Dwarfs left in the world to ask about it, if they ever existed at all. I would imagine that it was made by plain, old, ordinary humans."_

_Father and Mother didn't like the old Narnian fairytales, or for that matter any history of Narnia before the conquest, so Governess had been quick to change the subject after that. But Avayna remembered and wondered._

King Caspian descended the four stairs from the dais as Avayna followed her parents and uncle down the length of the carpet toward him. They were met along the way by smiles and soft greetings from friends and distant relations, but none made to stop them before homage was paid and the king had given his welcome.

"Uncle told me that there used to be a smaller throne on the carpet below the dais for the queen," Ninnia whispered as they walked, "but the king couldn't bear the sight of it sitting empty after she died so he had it removed and burned. Isn't that romantic?"

"It sounds horrible," Avayna whispered back. "The poor king lost his wife and the baby was stillborn. I would burn the chair, too."

"Uncle told _me _that the king has taken a mistress, one of Queen Neanna's cousins from House Beruna," Rev whispered even more quietly in her ear.

"You probably shouldn't tell Ninnia that," Avayna replied with a giggle. "She'd be devastated, even if it has been years since the queen died."

Mother's severe look hushed them at once, which was just as well since King Caspian was near. Father, Uncle, and Revilian bowed as Mother and the girls sank into deep curtseys, but the king bade them all rise with a casual wave of his thick hand. He reached out and grasped Father firmly on both shoulders.

"Kavidan, you country bumpkin," he crowed in delight, bestowing a royal kiss on Kavidan's cheek. "I ought to hold you hostage in the city so that we see each other more frequently. It's about time you arrived."

"If men could fly we would have been here sooner, Majesty," Father replied with a smile. "It is not a short distance to Andowell, especially with an entire household in tow."

"Certainly not. But you might have left earlier." The king laughed and moved to grasp Mother's outstretched hand in both of his own. "Lady Elmany," he continued, kissing one of her cheeks and then the other. "You grow lovelier by the year. Had my Neanna not come along I might have come to Archenland and snatched you up myself!"

"Your Majesty is too kind," Mother said with a smile, then added less formally, "It is good to see you again."

"It has been too long," Caspian agreed, placing a hand on Uncle's shoulder. "Lord Uvilas, as always you are welcome." As Uvilas bowed again, the king turned back to Kavidan. "Now, old friend. Do introduce me to your children. I doubt young Revilian remembers our last meeting, as he was only weeks old at the time."

"With great honor, my king," Kavidan replied, placing a hand on Revilian's shoulder. "My eldest and heir, Revilian, and his sisters Ninnia and Avayna."

"Left the youngest ones at home, I see," Caspian observed as Rev, Ninnia, and Avayna bowed and curtseyed again. "There are seven or eight more of you Andowells, aren't there? Regardless, I am very glad to know you three. Now you must meet my sons, as I hope that you will all be very good friends."

The jolly king gestured behind him, where two boys were waiting. Both were tall for their age, with golden coronets sitting on the same sandy-colored hair as their father might once have had. The elder smiled as he came forward, but the younger was the picture of seriousness. While her sister had been dreaming about and practicing for this event for weeks, Avayna had not given much thought to the moment where she would meet the princes. Upon catching Prince Caspian's glance, however, she found that her stomach was suddenly full of butterflies and she wished that she had spent half as much time as Ninnia had curtseying in front of a looking glass.

Gesturing to the smiling boy, the king said, "My son Caspian, Crown Prince of Narnia and Telmar, and his brother, Prince Miraz."

"They've grown quite a bit since our last meeting, your Majesty," Kavidan remarked as the boys both nodded politely to their guests.

"As children are wont to do, to my great dismay. I've been assured, however, that boys age at a faster rate than men, so at least I am not gaining years as quickly as they are." The king laughed a merry laugh, and for the first time Avayna noticed streaks of gray in his blond beard. "But I am ignoring the rest of my guests and courtiers," he continued with a wave of his hand toward the others in the room, "and I'm sure you have greetings and introductions to make as well. You must come see me this evening, Kavidan, so that we might catch up like the old friends we are, away from this court business and before the festivities begin in earnest."

At this, he turned to Avayna and her siblings and whispered conspiratorially, "You shall see things in these next few days the likes of which you've never dreamed of in the north." He winked, then turned back toward the dais and his throne. Miraz followed without a word, but the younger Caspian offered the three of them a kind smile. It was quite a nice smile, Avayna found herself thinking. His teeth were white and straight and there was a kindness in his eyes that reminded her of the king.

"It is truly good to meet you," he said before including Lord and Lady Andowell in his address. "Thank you all for coming to celebrate with us. I do hope to spend more time getting to know you all."

"The pleasure is ours, your Highness," Lady Elmany replied. The prince smiled again with a little nod, then followed his father and brother to retake his place before the dais. No sooner was he out of earshot than Ninnia turned to Avayna and grasped her hand.

"Did you see the crown prince?" she gushed, as though there was some way that Avayna might have missed him. "I've never seen anyone so handsome in all my days!"

Rolling his eyes, Revilian ignored his sister's comment. "Prince Miraz could have been sucking on a lemon, for all the more cheerful he was. He didn't even greet Father."

"Well, the entire country is coming together to celebrate his brother," Avayna pointed out. "Perhaps he's just jealous. I'm sure the celebration won't be nearly so grand when he turns fifteen."

"It won't be so grand when I turn fifteen, either, but I managed to be cordial," Rev replied with a grin that showed he was only jesting. "You're too kind to people, 'Vayna."

She smiled back, waiting until her brother turned away before whispering to her sister, "But Prince Caspian _is_ very handsome."

"Almost as handsome as Anderric Passarid," Ninnia replied, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of the truth of her statement.

The rest of the morning was all court business and then a seemingly endless stream of introductions and reunions. Even though she had been schooled on the lineages of the great houses of Narnia and Telmar since she was small, Avayna was still struck by how very many distant cousins she had. It seemed that everyone she met had an Andowell relation somewhere in his family tree. She knew some of the courtiers from their visits to Andowell, others merely by name and reputation, and some not at all if they weren't quite important enough to be included in Governess's drills of the noble families. By the time the king and his sons left the chamber, her cheeks hurt from smiling obligingly and her knees from so many deep curtseys.

Father ushered them out of the hall and they followed the throng of people through the corridors and out into the bright sunlight. Carriages, litters, and horses were waiting in droves outside the palace to take the courtiers and visitors back to their manses and city homes. Avayna recognized Uncle's carriage among the crowd and spoke up.

"Father," she said, catching his wide sleeve. "You said we might walk back to Uncle's house."

"Are you not tired from the morning?" Lord Kavidan asked.

"Not at all, Father," she replied. "May we, please?"

Uncle Uvilas broke in. "If you and Elmany would like to take the carriage, I don't mind walking the children home."

Avayna saw Rev bristle slightly at being called a child when he was so nearly a man, but he didn't say anything. Even Ninnia kept her pleading to her eyes as Father considered. Avayna had a feeling he was taking longer than usual to answer simply to torment them; there was a twinkle in his eye that belied his serious and contemplative expression.

"Go on then," Father said at last with a smile. "We will see you at home, and we'll have Cook hold back some of luncheon for you."

Ninnia squeaked with glee and Revilian and Avayna both cried, "Thank you, Father!" in near-harmony. Uvilas laughed, and Elmany kissed them each on the forehead before she and Kavidan moved away toward the carriage.

"Well, my girls and boy, let's be off!" Uvilas said, scooping up Avayna's hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. "There's a city to be seen, and luncheon waiting at the end!"

And what a city it was. It took some time for the little party to extricate themselves from the crowd of people, horses, and conveyances at the castle, but soon enough they were off the royal grounds and walking through wide, cobbled streets lined with the palatial homes of the king's close family and ministers. They walked among fountains and sculpted shrubbery, and the street was busy with servants hurrying to and fro on all manner of errands. Ninnia was doing a fine impression of an owl as her head swiveled to impossible angles, taking it all in. Her mouth was open in a tiny "o" and Avayna knew that her sister's overactive imagination was thinking up a dozen stories about all the people who lived in such houses. No doubt each door concealed a beautiful princess tucked away from the world till the arrival of her true love, a dashing knight who had slain three dragons before breakfast, and a wizard or two concocting potions and schemes both dastardly and heroic.

She could tell that Revilian was impressed, but she guessed that her brother was as keen as she was to get away from the manicured perfection of the great houses and into the bustling streets of the rest of the city. As they walked, the homes became smaller and the fountains and shrubbery disappeared, and with a few turns down side streets and alleyways they soon found themselves smack-dab in the center of the marketplace.

Avayna was glad that Uncle Uvilas still had her hand tucked securely in his elbow, for now they were jostled on all sides by the hundreds of people going about their business. She had been to the market in Town, of course, but this place was an entire world away from the hum-drum village back home. The buildings were built right up to the streets, with many upper floors hanging out over them, but still vendors of all kinds managed to squeeze their brightly-colored tents and stalls into the space on either side of the main walkway. The result was a head-spinning combination of smells and sounds and sights that left Avayna breathless. One moment someone was squawking about fish and the next a bolt of lace was being shoved in her face. To one side, rosy red apples were stacked impossibly high as a ruddy-cheeked, apple-shaped man juggled three of them to entice buyers. On her left, a hawkish woman was showing off a collection of golden bangles to two girls while her son kept a close watch over a wooden rack laden with beaded necklaces and bracelets. Every so often they would pass someone selling roasted nuts or freshly baked bread or meat pies, and Avayna's stomach growled anew with each delicious scent. She turned away when they passed a butcher's stall, which boasted two whole pigs dangling from hooks and different cuts of any number of meats piled high on his blood-stained table.

They walked mostly in silence, both because she and her siblings were overwhelmed by the sights and sounds around them and also because it was too noisy to have much of a conversation anyway. There were perfumes and tunics and beans and baubles and turnips and furniture and above all so very many _people_. All shapes and sizes and colors, from the painted-faced man on stilts entertaining children for a coin to the veiled women dressed all in red who were members of one of the city's religious orders. She saw men with skin darker than the wood of Father's desk back at Andowell, and three women with hair so brightly orange it looked as though their heads were aflame. Children were everywhere underfoot, playing and running errands for their parents and occasionally sneaking a pear or a piece of bread from a distracted vendor.

Uncle stopped at one of the stalls and bought them all little pasties fresh out of a small earthen oven that sat right there on the street. Avayna took a bite and burned her tongue on the hot filling, but it was so delicious that she barely noticed. Ninnia pored over the jewelry and Revilian looked longingly at a display of daggers and knives, but Avayna was more interested in watching the people going about their business all around them.

She would have loved to stay all afternoon, wandering the twisted alleyways of the market, observing the people and goings-on, and examining the myriad wares in each stall, shop, and tent, but there was still a distance to go until they reached Uncle's house. Eventually they left the marketplace behind, turning a corner and emerging through an alleyway and into a wider street. Uncle Uvilas informed them that it was the main road of the city, the one that began at the palace and ran straight out through the golden gates before splitting off in all directions of the country. He had taken them a roundabout way so that they might see the market, but now they would follow the road for a spell back in the direction of his house. With the prince's birthday celebrations starting on the morrow, there were scores of people coming to and from the marketplace and going about on other business, which meant that this street was also very crowded. Avayna wondered if there was ever a time that Telmar City's streets were not filled with hustling, bustling people.

It was then that something happened.

It started with a murmur, a rumbling through the crowd that rose above the general cacophony. Avayna looked up to find Uncle's brows furrowed, and he was staring ahead with great concentration. There came a sound that was very much like a trumpet, but a different sort of trumpet than she had ever heard. Even those who had been hurrying on their way were slowing to a stop, and Avayna saw people further ahead craning their necks in search of something.

"Uncle…?" she started, but then the whisper reached her.

"_Elephants!_"

Avayna turned wide-eyed to Ninnia. "Nin? Do you really think-?"

Ninnia's eyes were as big as saucers, and Revilian was on his tiptoes craning his neck.

"It's the Elephant Riders," Uvilas shouted to them above the din. "An envoy from the Far West come for his Highness's birthday celebrations."

They were swept with the crowd as it parted, dashing like waves up against the sandstone buildings on either side of the street. There was a great jumble and confusion and more than one elbow that ended up on someone's ribs, but then, suddenly, there they were.

They were enormous, twice as tall as Father and bigger than any living creature Avayna had ever seen. They walked in single file with a lumbering gait that set their long, curved noses swinging slightly back and forth before them. The wrinkly gray skin of their trunks was painted in colors and patterns as vivid as the bolts of cloth that were slung over their backs and down across their foreheads, and their huge, formidable tusks were adorned with rings and tassels. Upon each creature's back was perched an ornately carved, bench-like seat big enough for two men to sit side-by-side, similarly bedecked in spangles and with a large cloth umbrella swaying overtop. The Riders were rocked with the movement of the beasts' heavy steps, but did so with the grace and fluidity of those who have been accustomed to such a motion since childhood. Their bright clothing was loose and flowing, and they wore similar material wrapped around their heads and framing their light brown and beardless faces. Despite the throngs of people staring up at them, not a single one ever looked down.

The crowd below watched spellbound as the animals and their Riders lumbered by. Once, an elephant trumpeted, causing some children to scatter and Avayna's heart to skip a beat. All too soon, however, the last elephant passed and the street began to return to its normal state of busy happenings.

"I'm so glad we walked!" Ninnia exclaimed breathlessly as Uncle Uvilas led them back into the street and on the path to his home.

"I can't wait to tell Father and Mother!" Avayna agreed. "They will be sorry they missed it."

"I wish Father hadn't bought me a horse," Revilian said. When his sisters looked at him quizzically, he grinned. "I would have asked for an elephant instead."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thank you very much for reading. I would love to know your thoughts, suggestions, and constructive criticisms!


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